


Mission Debrief

by masserect



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/M, Fuckbuddies, Mass Effect Kink Meme, wacky space adventures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-14
Updated: 2011-12-14
Packaged: 2017-10-27 08:35:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/293804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masserect/pseuds/masserect
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Between missions, Shepard stops by Omega to fill Aria in on the latest events. And some other things, too.</p><p>Written in response to a request for Aria and Shepard as fuckbuddies on the <a href="http://masseffectkink.livejournal.com/">Mass Effect kink meme</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Archangel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard stops by the Afterlife to give Aria a report on the situation with Archangel.

> `**From:** A (queen@omega.gov)  
>  **Sent:** September 12, 2185 11:17 UT  
>  **To:** Yes, THAT Commander Shepard (myfavouritestore@sr2.cerberus.net.ext)  
>  **Subject:** Re: Passing by`
> 
> ` > Your info on Archangel was good. Never got a chance to say thanks before,  
> > but I'm 90 minutes from Omega. Got room for my ship in your dock?`
> 
> `I'm sure I can find a spot for your little shuttle.`

He shows up in civilian clothes and greets her with a lazy wave. Cheeky, that - and it gets him more than just a few glares from Aria's underlings.

The gesture she makes to send her retinue packing is smaller, but better received. Shepard throws himself down on the couch, even as the last sullen mercs shuffle down the stairs.

"How did it go?"

She already knows the big picture, but the attack on Archangel was a clusterfuck with few survivors and fewer recordings, and the fine details have eluded even her.

"Mission accomplished," he says, and pries the top button on his jacket open. "Turns out Archangel is an old friend." A pause, and a little less enthusiastically: "He's pretty fucked up. A lot happened in two years."

"It always does in that line of work." She, if anyone, should know. But it doesn't bother her any more; it's just a fact of life, and her voice betrays no emotion.

"Yeah." Another pause, and then his good mood seems to return. "I had to shoot down a gunship to get him out of there. Pretty sore after that. Mind being on top today?"

She smirks. "You _do_ realize who you are talking to?"

He grins back. "Sure thing, your majesty."

Still grinning, he leans in and puts a hand on her knee. She likes his hands - big and strong for a human, heavy and solid.

"Tell me more," she orders as she shrugs out of her jacket and begins to reach for the straps on the outfit underneath.

"Let me," he says, and she shrugs, letting her hands fall. And if he's sore, he certainly doesn't show it as he grabs her around the waist and lifts her onto his lap.

She likes his lap as well. Nice, thick, strong muscles. She spreads her legs and straddles his thighs, pressing her back against his broad chest. His fingers dig in a little harder in response, before going to work on the straps.

"Getting in was simple. Mercs were too busy getting their shit ruined to think too hard about it." Pretty soon he manages to peel the top half of the suit off her, leaving her bare-chested. He slides his hands around her waist and up her belly, across the ribs and stops to knead her breasts with his rough, callused fingers. Her nipples stiffen quickly under his touch, and she allows herself a grin as she feels something else stiffening as well, poking up against her ass.

"My buddy was holed up in this abandoned building across a bridge. The mercs planned to send us over as a distraction. 'Course, that plan went to hell when we started throwing their guys over the sides and ran for cover on the other side." He slides his hands down again, easing a finger in under the waistline of her suit, but the position and the garment's snug fit do not make it easy. He pulls back and begins to work on the buttons over her right hip, while his left hand slides down between her legs and starts to stroke her slowly through her pants.

"Archangel and I were pretty happy to see each other again, but the mercs weren't happy at all and started throwing everything they had at us."

Aria closes her eyes and rocks her hips gently against the stroking fingers in front and the hard bulge behind her. "I assume that went poorly."

Shepard laughs behind her, a short bark that bounces her where she sits. "Archangel had been holding that bridge alone for hours." She feels cool air on her right hip, and he shifts his grasp, left hand sliding up to the other side, the right taking its place between her thighs, a little rougher than before. She hums, pleased at this new development.

"It was a meat grinder. Stupid fucking rookie troops and Loki mechs." The buttons on the left side yield as well, but rather than let her up so he can get the outfit off her, he continues to rub her through the synthetic stretch fibre, up and down, just one thick, rough finger.

"Then someone remembered that they had heavy mechs."

He pauses, his finger stopping as well. Aria catches herself holding her breath.

"Unfortunately for them, I found out where they kept them and crossed a few wires before we went over the bridge."

His finger begins to move again, harder. She grinds back against him in turn. She's not sure why he'd subject himself to this, keeping his cock trapped under the confines of his clothes. Probably hurts quite a bit, especially the way she's riding it. Still, he shows no sign of that as he continues. His left hand slides down her thigh, fingers curling down around the inside, teasing the sensitive skin. It's beginning to feel frizzy and electric. Damn human certainly is good with his hands, she has to give him that.

"Big-ass Ymir mech. By the time they realized it was out of control, it had stomped over half the Eclipse troops. Took out the other half when it blew up. Apparently this guy in charge, Jaroth, takes it personally, so he comes out shooting and Gar- Archangel puts a bullet in his head. Bang." He pinches her clit through the cloth, suddenly, just as he barks the last word into her ear, and she stiffens and gasps before shoving back against his chest, frowning. Good with his hands, and too damn cocky. She likes it in some ways, but it's difficult to break old habits, and she has to struggle with the impulse to warp him into a fine red mist when he makes her lose control like this.

Shepard just continues as though nothing had happened, rubbing her cunt through her pants.

"While we were taking care of the Eclipse, the Blood Pack had been busting through the tunnels under the building. Archangel had sealed most of the doors, but the vorcha are pretty good at dismantling shit and krogan don't need to open doors before they walk through them."

His left hand rises again, over her thigh and hip and stomach until it reaches her breasts, and he captures one dark nipple between thumb and forefinger and tugs at it, pinching it the way he did her clit, and it's almost enough to set her off right then and there. She arches her back, shoulders digging into his chest, and slips her hands in behind her, unzipping his pants and freeing him from their constraints. Shepard grunts appreciatively, and uses his hand between her legs to pull her tighter against him, the length of his cock digging into the cleft of her ass. She works her muscles against him and licks her lips, her mental images of the battle fading for a few moment, giving way to thoughts of what she's going to do to him later on.

"And then?" she asks, her voice showing only the tiniest bit of strain - certainly nothing that will be noticeable over the pounding music in the background.

"We split up. I left one of my team above, with Archangel." The finger between her legs stops, but the hand on her breasts tightens, kneading the supple mounds roughly. "I went below." And his right hand starts to move again, now concentrating on her clit, rubbing in quick circles, while the left lies motionless. "And started closing the emergency shutters Archangel hadn't gotten to." The circles slow, and the hand on her chest resumes its rough massage. "They weren't expecting resistance at the shutters, so we didn't have to work too hard, but while I was doing that, their leader managed to get in and cornered Archangel on the second floor."

"Hard work," she manages, her jaw clenching, her head feeling light and her ears pounding both with the bass and her own heartbeat. "Killing vorcha and krogan."

" _Hard_ work," he agrees, and emphasizes the word with a hard push of the finger on her cunt, making her twitch. "We got back just as he was going up the stairs, but he wasn't alone, so we had to fight off a bunch of vorcha and varren. By the time we dealt with them, Garm had found Archangel's room and pinned him down."

Then he stops. "Quit holding back."

The next thing she feels is a slap between her thighs, sending a shock all the way up through her body and making stars burst before her eyes. Gasping, she tries to regain her composure, her legs pressing hard together around his hand, but he holds her firmly around the waist and grabs her cunt firmly, pinching the outer lips together around her clit and uses that grip to stroke its entire length. Her head slams back against his shoulder, and Aria bites her lip, riding out the orgasm in silence, just rocking her hips as best she can against the iron grip below, each movement shifting her flesh around her clit and re-sparking the climax, drawing it out further and further.

Once she lies limp, Shepard lets go and brings his hand up, his fingers coated with slick that has soaked through her clothes, and she should be pissed at him for that, but she can't really muster the effort.

He licks his fingers clean, and, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, simply continues.

"Garm was tough. You could see him taking bullets and just healing right up, so I grabbed one of the flame throwers his vorcha had brought. Never want to get that close to a murderous burning krogan for the rest of my life, but it worked. Eventually."

She hears him sucking his fingers, and hum behind her, the sound echoing in his chest. "Fuck, I want a better taste of this."

"I have another use for your tongue," she manages, still dazed, but he just chuckles.

"You think you're in any condition to stop me?"

If she has to, she is. And a threat, no matter how... _benign_ it may be, gets the adrenaline flowing. She glares over her shoulder and raps her knuckles on his forehead, hard.

"Try it, and you won't _have_ a tongue."

She swings herself off his lap and strips, ridding herself of the leggings and her boots. Shepard's shirt is open and his pants unzipped; she helps him tug them off before taking her seat again, but this time facing the other direction. She meets his gaze and wraps her right hand around his cock, tightly, until she can feel his pulse under her palm - strong, regular and surprisingly slow.

Without comment, she begins to stroke, slowly.

"Tell me about the Blue Suns."

He groans, gaze flitting down to her hand, up to her eyes and back down again, but he clears his throat and begins to tell the last part of his tale.

"Tarak." His voice is low and harsh, almost a growl. "I think that's what he called himself. Blue Suns bigshot." His shoulders dig into the upholstering as he leans back. She's not sure if it's to give her more room or get a better view, and concludes that it's probably both.

As before, she is only half paying attention to what he says, but files everything away in her head. Unlikely that any of it is important, but one only stays on top of a place like this by knowing, at the very least, everything. She's more interested in what she sees in front of her, not just his cock but his entire body, stretched out on her couch. The Commander is certainly no slouch, and Aria quite approves of the corded muscles under his battle-scarred hide.

"Tarak was the one with the gunship. Archangel winged it before we got there. I killed the guy repairing it. Wasn't enough." His gaze is locked on the slender, dark blue fingers wrapped around his shaft. "He got it running, started unloading troops on the roof. Rappelling down the sides, getting in through the windows - fuck." His cock twitches in her unyielding grasp. A bead of cloudy white fluid rolls down her hand, and she realizes that she's licking her lips at the sight.

"While we're killing them, Tarak starts shooting. Cannons are bad enough. Damn near folds the building in half with the missiles." Muscles ripple along his arms as he fists his hands. His thighs ripple as well, underneath her. Aria continues on, as though she doesn't notice.

"The gunship's a pretty big target. Tarak goes down in flames, but not before he blows out the room Archangel's in. Devil's own luck, that turian-" His jaw clenches, and he groans, shifting in his seat, hips rising. She moves faster, using the slick fluid dribbling from the tip of his cock to run her thumb over the head, and he growls, growing even thicker and harder under her touch.

"Go on," she says, and stops moving, just squeezing down on his shaft. He grits his teeth, breath hissing between them. _Growls_ , but begins to relax, even as his cock twitches in her grasp.

"We got him out," Shepard continues, his voice strained. "Place was empty. Figure any remaining mercs thought of a career change after Tarak bit it. Grabbed the first car, went back to the ship." She tugs on his cock, fingers sealed right below the crown, feels it straining against her with every movement, but never giving the stimulation he needs. He winces and grunts. "Fuck's sake, you bitch."

She grins. "You can finish your story. Or you can finish _this_ on your own."

He slaps his hands on her hips, fingers digging in painfully. "It's finished, all right? Killed mercs, rescued Archangel, patched him up, _done_."

Aria continues for a few more moments, as if carefully considering his words. Then she shrugs, loosens her grip and begins to stroke.

Shepard growls deep in his throat and kneads her ass. He wants her to move faster, but he doesn't say it, so she doesn't bother.

Still, even at her current pace, he's close to the edge. All the signs are there, rapid heartbeat and breathing, sweat beading on his skin, his eyes narrowing to slits.

Right there at the edge, she finally does quicken her pace, her sticky fingers making soft wet noises as they pump his thick shaft, noises almost entirely lost under the music in the background.

If he makes any sound as he comes, that, too, is lost in the beat. Tilting his head back, his body rippling underneath her, his cock twitching in her grip as it spurts jets of thick white fluid over her hand and arm, onto her stomach and all the way up to her chest, a few drops even spattering between her tits.

Even as he comes, she changes her pace again, relaxing her grip and making her strokes torturously slow. He gasps, lets out a noise of protest and squeezes her until she thinks she hears her hipbones creaking, but she doesn't let it affect her.

Another spurt, hot liquid coming up to her ribs. Another, on her stomach. And a trickle, running down over his still twitching shaft and her fingers. He keeps twitching long after the fluid runs out, and Aria eventually stops stroking entirely, just sits back and enjoys the sensation of throbbing flesh under her touch.

When, finally, it lies still in her hand, Shepard raises his head again. He peers down, eyes still narrow, and seems to admire the mess as his chest heaves with deep breaths. Then he begins to smear the thick come on her skin, thumbs working over her flat, hard abs, the rest of his fingers still digging into her ass.

Aria lets go of his softening cock, and it smacks against his stomach. He winces at the sensation.

"Remind me why I put up with your shit."

She licks her fingers clean, as if that answers everything. Which, truth to be told, it does.

Then she wipes the back of her hand on his cheek, rough stubble scratching her knuckles.

He growls and picks up his shirt and begins to scrub the sweat and sex from his body.

Aria slides off his lap without further comment and stands back to watch, idly playing with the mess on her stomach and chest, fingertips circling in the slippery fluid. Thinks it's a pity he doesn't seem up for another round, but that's how it is with men.

She remains naked while he stands up, pulls his pants back on and stretches. The dirty shirt still dangles from his hand as he steps up and gives her left tit a brief, rough grope, ending with a firm tug at the nipple that sends a jolt through her chest and down her spine.

"Another time, Aria."

She doesn't answer, and he doesn't wait for it. Just heads for the stairs, hand raised in the same kind of lazy wave he gave her on the way in.

She doesn't bother to watch him go; just sits down again, leans back and crosses her legs as she stares up at the ceiling, at the light from the club playing across it.

A _real_ pity he wasn't up for another round. She can still feel his hand on her chest, his fingers pinching her dark flesh, and it has definitely left her in the mood. Humans! Fucking insufferable species. Interesting, but insufferable.

Still she smiles as she raises a hand to lick the come from her fingertips. She has no doubt he'll try harder to entertain her the next time they meet.


	2. Horizon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After an unpleasant encounter on Horizon, Shepard stops by Omega to get drunk and laid. Aria decides she can manage both. (Contains rough sex.)

> `**From:** A (queen@omega.gov)  
>  **Sent:** September 16, 2185 23:12 UT  
>  **To:** Commander Shepard (myfavouritestore@sr2.cerberus.net.ext)  
>  **Subject:** Re: Re: Passing by`
> 
> ` I need contacts who won't waste my time with moronic questions. Recommendations?`
> 
> `> I need a place to get drunk and laid. Recommendations?`

He greets her with what amounts more to a snarl than a smile. One of the mercs gets nervous and goes for his gun. Aria sits quietly and watches as Shepard throws the batarian through one of the windows, then raises a hand to forestall any further attempts from her trigger-happy entourage. Cheaper to replace the window than to replace it _and_ the mercs.

And she would have to replace the mercs.

"Go pick that idiot off my floor and clean it up," she orders, and they almost fall over each other in their haste.

Shepard throws himself on the couch with a grunt, and she throws him a bottle. He catches it, breaks the seal and empties it.

"Fuck," he grunts, and throws the bottle through the broken window. She doesn't hear it land, but it amuses her to imagine it hitting the batarian in the head. "Got another?"

She does. He empties that, too. She watches in silence, fascinated. Krogan can drink like that. Most other races try to match them, fail, and fall unconscious in short order. But the second bottle goes the way of the first, and rather than fall over, Shepard simply leans back, letting out a deep sigh.

"Fuck," he repeats, softer this time.

"I thought that was the point."

She could ask what brings on this mood - _wants_ to ask, because she has never seen him so moody before, even when it seems he has every reason. But it wouldn't do either of them any good.

She throws her jacket to the side and unzips the front of her top, then leans back, arms on the back of the couch. It doesn't leave much to the imagination. It gets the point across. He stares, and she can tell that his eyes don't seem to focus properly. Comforting, in a sense, to know the booze has _some_ effect.

Not much, but some. He doesn't sound any different than usual when he raises his gaze and peers at her face. "I'm not looking for a cuddle this time."

"I don't get off on cuddling." Simple truth. Mostly, anyway. "You want it rough? Rough gets me wet."

He gazes at her for a few moments, as if trying to ascertain the validity of that claim. But apparently she sounds trustworthy enough, because he reaches out and yanks her over, fists his hands in the fabric and rips it open. The zipper breaks first; then the cloth below tears as well, all the way down to her crotch. He shifts his grip and begins to rip the leggings as well, baring first her left thigh, then the right.

Thin fabric fluttering around her chest and calves, most of her body bare, he throws her down on the couch again, her head propped up against the back, shoulders flat on the seat and her ass hanging off the couch entirely. She finds purchase with her feet - easy enough, with her boots still on - and supports her lower body with her legs.

He bends over her, _looms_ over her, captures her wrists and shoves her arms in underneath her, holding her wrists behind the small of her back with his left hand, forcing her to arch up. His right hand settles on her left thigh, kneads her dark, firm flesh for a few moments before letting go.

The next touch is far less gentle. She cries out, the sound half choked, as he slaps her, right up between her legs. It _stings_ and jolts her entire body, and black spots bloom before her eyes. For a moment she can't breathe, her entire body tense and arching.

By the time she draws breath again, he has two fingers pumping hard inside her, hard and deep, and every thrust is another slap of his palm against her clit.

Aria's toes curl in her high-heeled boots, her eyes rolling back, her supple, sinuous body rippling with every thrust, every impact. Her arms and shoulders strain against his grip, unyielding like metal; her legs tremble with the effort of holding her up.

"Fuck!" she manages, a throaty gasp, and he pulls his fingers out of her, hard, and stuffs them in her mouth, pressing her tongue down and smearing it with her tangy juices. She gurgles and winces as he presses her head into the upholstering, mashing her fringe between the couch and her skull. Her mouth waters at the scent and taste of her sex, her nostrils flaring, and she bites down on the fingers in her mouth, but they don't budge.

Instead, he lets go of her aching wrists, and though she can't raise her head to confirm, she hears him unzipping his pants.

Only moments later, he's between her legs, the blunt head of his cock splitting her lips. One thrust, deep and hard, and he lies buried to the hilt in her dripping, twitching cunt, and the music drowns a soft whimper as her entire body trembles.

He pries her mouth open without any seeming effort and pulls his fingers back out, clearly marked by her teeth but otherwise unharmed, dripping with saliva and the remains of slick. She gasps and pants, tries to draw breath but finding it knocked from her lungs with every thrust inside her.

But the thrusts don't last, not long enough to give her release. Barely four or five times, then - stop.

Released from his grip, she can at least raise her head and look down at what he's doing. But even as she does, she feels him grabbing her left thigh and pulling her leg up, then forcing it down on the other side, turning her lower body to the side; then he grabs her arms and the world spins before she finds herself kneeling on the floor, face pressed into couch the by a large hand on the back of her neck. She starts to breathe again, and Shepard thrusts, even harder this time, the impact against the back of her thighs and ass sending her sliding forward painfully, her knees scraping against the floor, the leather of the couch hot against her skin. She yelps, and the sound is cut short by another thrust, another impact against her ass that drives her hard into the couch.

Gasping for air, struggling to draw it in with her face buried in the seat, she claws at the leather and crosses her ankles, squeezing down on the thick intrusion with all her strength.

It doesn't slow him down. Not even close.

Instead, he picks up the pace.

He lets go of her neck, catches her wrists again, twists them up behind her back and locks them in place. The weight off her head, she arches up and sucks in deep breaths, chest aching as she feels it crushed under Shepard's weight, rocking back and forth as he fucks her.

Hard, fast and deep. He slams his hips against her with every thrust, the force spreading out from her buttocks and up through her entire torso.

She can barely remember the last time someone dared fuck her like this. Or the last time she allowed it. But bent over like this, with the human's cock impaling her over and over, those memories seem hazier than ever.

Her skin burns, not just where he slapped her, or where he keeps pounding into her, but across her entire body, sweat dripping off her lithe form. She grits her teeth, tries to push back, meet his thrusts with her own, but the difference in mass and strength between them is too great, and she can't physically break his hold.

Every thrust sends an electric jolt of pleasure up her body, every slap of his hips against her ass enhances it. The sensations flow and intertwine, filling her head with crackling static.

"Hhh-"

Another thrust knocks the breath from her lungs with a wheezing gasp.

" _Har_ -"

Another, the impact echoing in her ears like a gunshot.

"- _der_."

She doesn't know if he hears. Doesn't know if he cares. Just has to get that out.

Maybe he heard. Maybe it's a coincidence. But the angle changes, he leans down harder on her arms and back, bends lower over her, and his next thrust comes at a different angle, down towards her front.

The sensation changes. And Aria comes, head tossing back and forth, feet drumming on the polished floor. She can't move most of her body, even as it convulses and heaves, but she can do that, kick and bite the leather under her, while Shepard pounds her like a tireless machine, never stopping, never slowing.

Not until Aria has had her fill.

By the time it's over, he has already released her arms, and they lie limp at her sides, trembling occasionally as she shivers with an aftershock of the orgasm, the orgasm _s_ \- she didn't count them. Her knees slip and skid on the floor, sting vaguely from the scrapes and the fluids pooling underneath her. She's _empty_ now, she realizes, and moves slowly to look over her shoulder.

Shepard looks back, blank, expressionless. Sweat glistens on his heaving chest and shoulders, and his cock drips with her fluids.

Neither of them has had enough yet.

"More."

He doesn't react. She rolls over, pulls her legs up - her thighs glisten with slick, dripping on her chest and stomach and she pulls them up, then spreads them, knees up against her shoulders.

She does not lie when she says rough gets her wet.

Something seems to ignite in Shepard's eyes, but still he does not move.

Aria groans, frustrated, and pulls her knees up further, runs her hands down her thighs to her ass. Even there, she's slippery with come and slick, her fingers gliding easily on her skin. She squeezes the firm mounds, spreads them wide, lifts her hands and spanks herself hard.

" _More._ "

Slowly, Shepard seems to wake up, and he grips his cock in one large hand and steers it against her ass, forcing it up against the tiny puckered opening.

"Don't you _fucking_ hold back."

She pinches his nipples, hard; pulls him towards her. His cock strains against her ass, her body resisting.

She slaps him across the face. His head jolts to the side, then slowly turns towards her again, eyes narrow and angry.

She swings again, backhand from the other direction. This time, he does not budge.

Large, rough hands grasp the backs of her knees, forcing her legs up until her knees dig as hard into the upholstering as her shoulders, folding her double. And he thrusts.

Aria arches her back, biting her lower lip as he begins to fuck her.

It hurts. _Goddess, it hurts so good._

She returns her hands to his chest, claws at the solid wall of muscle in front of her. His nipples are hard like pebbles under her touch, and he growls like a varren when she tugs at them, slamming his hips down, smacking loudly against her stinging buttocks, his cock piercing deep into her ass.

The pain doesn't last. Not that sharp initial pain of being stretched so wide, so suddenly, but the ache in her body remains, growing with every thrust. She slaps him again, and he barely reacts, just narrowing his eyes, but the next thrust comes hard enough to push her head up against the seat of the couch, and she has to curl up towards him to avoid the next impact slamming her into the furniture. It offers an unrivalled view of their heaving, bucking bodies. The light from the club plays over Shepard's features, painting him red as it reflects in the sweat on his body. His features are twisted in a grimace, a feral snarl that twists his scars and makes him seem like some kind of demonic creature.

She loves it - loves feeling that rage fuelling every movement. Like fucking a krogan, but one she won't break her hands on.

She rakes her nails down his chest, long and hard, across his rippling stomach until her hand smacks against her cunt, three fingers digging in, and she feels them driven deeper into as he pushes into her ass again; feels his cock against her knuckles through the thin barrier separating them.

Tiny droplets of deeper crimson bead in the trails made by her nails.

Shepard doesn't react. Aria does, shuddering, soaking her hand as she comes, writhing and panting, never taking her eyes off the miniscule drops of blood as they mingle with clear sweat and trickle down his body, shake loose and spatter on her heated skin.

She feels a strain in her eyes and in her head, a sensation no human could understand, and almost whimpers as she forces it back, forces her eyes to remain clear and her mind to remain still. It's harder now, with him in front of her, _inside_ of her, and her body humming with pleasure. It would be so easy to free her mind and let it meld with his, would feel so _good_ if she could give in, but that would be a breach of contract, a level of intimacy neither of them wants.

Aria curls her toes in her boots and her fingers in her cunt and comes, once more - holding back instincts developed over millions of years by will alone, and even in the midst of sensations that make her body spasm and shake, she remains in control. And just for a brief moment, that thought is an even bigger turn-on than the man she sees in front of her.

The moment ends when Shepard sets his jaw and tightens his grasp on her legs and somehow manages to increase his pace even further, until the couch creaks every time he bears down on her, until every thrust jolts her like a blow. The shaking blurs her vision, and she closes her eyes instead, pictures it clearly in her mind instead as she works towards a final explosive climax.

Shepard gets there before her, and he growls as he buries himself deep inside her. She feels his cock twitching, her ass futilely clenching down on it, and he makes a short thrust, grinding himself against her aching buttocks. His fingers tighten until she's sure they'll leave bruises on her legs.

He thrusts again, and she opens her eyes to peer up at his rippling muscles, his twisted features. Reaches down with her left hand and grabs his balls, squeezing them in her palm, feeling them tighten against his body with every twitch of his cock inside her.

He releases her legs, suddenly, letting her body unfold, and her heels pound against the floor, sending a different sort of jolt up her aching limbs. Then he captures her wrists, quickly enough that she doesn't manage to struggle until it's too late, until they're pinned over her head in his left hand. He thrusts into her ass a few more times before pulling out, leaving her empty and sore, hot mingled come dribbling out of her onto the floor.

But she is not sated yet, and he knows it. And, silently glaring down at her, he rams the middle two fingers of is right hand up her cunt. His thumb rolls her clit underneath it, roughly, and his fingers curl inside her.

Aria groans and begins to thrust her hips up against those fingers. His grip on her cunt shakes her entire body, rocking her back and forth where she lies.

She can only endure it for a few moments, and this time she almost blacks out entirely.

While she lies panting, heaving and twitching in the aftermath, she feels him pull out and release her arms, but it takes another couple of minutes before she is ready to move them.

When at last she sits up, Shepard is back on the couch to her right, hunched over with his elbows on his knees, silent. She stretches and rolls her shoulders, trying to work some energy back into her body, and digs under the couch for the crate she had brought up earlier. It's still where she remembers it, and she pulls two more bottles out of it; Shepard accepts one of them as she holds it out, and takes a sip. Not the whole bottle in one go, this time - probably an improvement.

She opens her own bottle and wets her lips, the lukewarm alcohol feeling hot on her skin.

"What brought this on?"

She probably shouldn't ask, even now, but she can't help but wonder if there's any way she can arrange to have him come in drunk and bitter more often. Not that the sex isn't usually good - this was just better. She's going to _feel_ this in the morning.

He sighs, takes another swig and leans back on the couch. "I served with this guy, two years ago. One of the best officers I've ever met, and a good friend. Saved each other's asses more times than I can count." Another swig of booze. "Then I ran into him again. It didn't go so well."

She waits. The setup is only too familiar. Shepard takes another swallow from his bottle before continuing.

"Two years, and it's like he forgot the kind of shit we had to go through to get things done back then. Stands there in a field littered with dead Collectors and tells me I don't know where my _loyalties_ lie."

He pounds his fist on the couch, hard enough that she feels it shake. Then leans forwards, elbows on knees, chin resting on his folded hands.

"Don't know what pisses me off more. Thinking he's an asshole, or thinking there's a chance he has a point."

Aria can't offer an answer, so they just drink, and the air feels heavy with silence despite the pounding music and the bass they can feel through the floor.


	3. Night Winds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apparently, the best way to catch an ardat-yakshi is to be the biggest hipster in the galaxy. Naturally, Shepard was up to the task.

> `**From:** A (queen@omega.gov)  
>  **Sent:** September 21, 2183 12:32 UT  
>  **To:** stop reading my email miranda (myfavouritestore@sr2.cerberus.net.ext)  
>  **Subject:** Ardat-Yakshi`
> 
> ` I prefer "sooner".`
> 
> `> Problem solved. Got the blood pumping. Tell you about it later.`

 

Shepard's mood seems to have improved since last time. He shows up with a bottle in hand, but it seems almost full still, and there is nothing unsteady in his movements as he climbs the stairs and sits down on the couch to her right.

This time, the mercs file out without incident. Aria turns to her... 'guest', who seems casual and relaxed, and from what she can tell, quite satisfied with himself.

"You never said how you got a justicar working under you."

"You never asked." He takes a sip of his drink. "It's not too hard getting actual heroes to sign up to save the world. She was happy to come, after we wrapped up the business she had on Illium."

He leans back, looking up at the ceiling. "I'm more surprised she's so good-looking. Didn't expect someone who's been fighting for hundreds of years to have..."

He glances to the side, smirking.

"Well, suffice to say I'd embrace _her_ eternity any time."

She tries to choke back the laughter, but it's too sudden, and she finds herself chuckling.

"I wouldn't try it."

He shakes his head. "She'd probably have to kill me if I did."

Aria no longer laughs, but simply smiles thinly. She respects power and dedication, but she certainly thinks there are better ways to put those things to use. The Code! That old piece of junk was outdated _before_ the asari developed space travel.

"They say a justicar is allowed to... _revel_ for a day after defeating a powerful evil." She actually has no idea if it's true. It's a popular subject in pornos, though. A celibate warrior cutting loose for the first time in two hundred years, a cheap excuse plot, and a whole bunch of fucking.

Now it's his turn to laugh. "You bet your ass I'm going to ask. Hell, if I can pull _this_ off, I'll even treat her to dinner first."

His smile turns wry. "Still got some loose ends to tie up first. Hope none of the other fuckers want me to seduce a goddamn succubus."

Her translator catches that as _ardat-yakshi_ , even though he clearly doesn't say the asari word this time. Curious, she thinks, but not worth dwelling on. Instead, she says:

"Tell me."

Shepard is grinning again. "This one's pretty good. Not every time you get to see a fight like that first hand."

She rolls her eyes. "What do you want?"

"Blowjob."

She sighs. "If that story isn't as good as you say, I bite."

His grin doesn't falter. "If it is, you swallow."

She still looks around the booth before she gets in position, for anyone watching. This is the kind of thing that doesn't make her look good.

She doesn't _like_ sucking cock. It's not just the image problem - and anyone who thinks the one with their teeth around the other's genitals is subservient hasn't thought things through properly. Just that fitting something that big in her mouth and keeping it there makes her jaw ache.

Still, this is far from the first time.

She pulls his pants down and kneels, still fully dressed, leaning down on his muscular thighs. Shepard's cock is already hard and swaying gently with every heartbeat.

"Talk," she orders, and wraps her fingers around the root, before lowering her head and breathing hotly against the sensitive tip.

Shepard groans and shuffles down in the couch, making himself comfortable, before beginning.

"You were right on the money, as usual." His smug, cheerful expression falters a bit. "Sad story, about that girl." He shakes his head, as if trying to banish the memory. "Still, we found a lead pointing to a club downtown." And his good mood begins to return, aided perhaps in some small way by the fact that Aria starts licking his cock in long, measured strokes, from root to tip.

"The place is just perfect. Secret password at the gate, shady booths, bar stocked with anything you care to imagine. Samara, the justicar, says the succubus is attracted to _artists_. And of course I'm the best there is at what I do."

Aria sighs, even as she runs her tongue around the head of his cock. He's not exactly arrogant; she has seen his prowess for herself. And the plan is sound - the perfect bait, a powerful, charismatic individual who does the impossible on a regular basis.

She's actually a little put off that the ardat-yakshi never tried to take her on. But she shows no displeasure, and Shepard is too busy enjoying himself to notice either way.

"I find some guys who look like they're itching for a fight. Kind of small krogan, looks like he's got something to prove, and I get in his face. Doesn't take long before he takes a swing." He smiles rather unpleasantly.

"I learned how to fight krogan from a battlemaster. The idiot misses and goes down. Then I buy a round of drinks as an excuse for messing up the place. Next thing I know, this asari, looks almost exactly like the justicar, is standing behind me and telling me how awesome I am. So of course, I buy her a drink and tell her I want to chat."

As she swirls her tongue around slowly, Aria finds herself listening more raptly than usual. There is something in the way he talks, as if he's having _fun_ \- not just because of what she's doing, but the events he's describing. And it does have a certain charm, like some low-budget detective drama.

She licks her lips and parts them, begins to suck the tip of his prick, slowly taking more of him into her mouth. He twitches against her tongue, but it's nothing that impacts his ability to talk.

"I did some research going in and play the hipster card. And she _buys_ it. _Oh, I love Forta and Expel 10, but they're pretty obscure, so you might not have heard of them._ And I go on about how I travel the galaxy, make a living killing mercs and taking their stuff, and she's just sitting there, looking like a varren in a pyjak nursery."

Aria snorts, lips tightening around his cock. He's actually making this tolerable! She would have to congratulate him, if her mouth weren't otherwise occupied. And if she weren't eager to hear where this was going next.

"After we talk for a bit, she invites me to her place, just as planned. And it's a nice place - big apartment, all these artefacts around from earlier boyfriends, she tells me. Keeps yammering about how those relationships ended suddenly, like she thinks I don't have a clue and she's _so_ clever."

Aria sinks a little deeper, pushing the bulbous cockhead against the back of her mouth, working her tongue around the crown. He groans and shifts his hips, but still doesn't seem about to slow down.

"She gets me on the couch, L-shaped, so we're facing each other right up close and personal. All the time she's getting even closer. Then she's talking about how we're safe here, and I play along, saying shit like how people feel safest just before they die, and how I like danger..."

Aria can't comment, but hums around the hot flesh in her mouth, sinking a bit deeper still.

"Then," he continues, but now his voice sounds a bit strained. "She gets up and sits right next to me. I see her eyes turn dark, and it's like staring into a black hole. Everything gets all _fuzzy_ , it's like she's talking to me but her lips aren't saying what I hear in my head."

He straightens. Aria lets out a noise of surprise as he reaches down and wraps his hands under her arms, pulls her off him and up, until she is staring straight into his eyes, their noses almost touching.

" _Look into my eyes and tell me you want me. Tell me you'd kill for me. Anything I want._ And I say - fuck no."

Then he drops her, and she catches herself on his legs, remaining half-crouched before him. He throws his head back and laughs.

"The look on her face!"

Then, his hands are upon her again, pulling her up, even higher than before, and he buries his head against her chest, growling as he nips at her breasts with his teeth; he wraps one arm around her waist to keep her still, then slides his other hand down her ass and in between her legs, stroking her through her clothes.

It is certainly a welcome change, but Aria doesn't let it show. She keeps her tone steady, and asks: "That is where the justicar breaks in?"

His voice comes out a bit muffled against her chest. "Yeah." A few more nibbles and he continues: "The door flies off its hinges. They both charge as soon as they see each other, and the couch, the furniture, everything just goes flying." He growls as he sinks his teeth in her supple flesh, almost hard enough to bruise. Aria's breath catches in her throat for a moment. "I get up. My head's spinning and all this junk is just floating around them. They're charging their biotics so high they're glowing, and they're completely matched."

The hand between her thighs stops, and it seems he pictures the scene in his head. He just retains his grip around her waist, and she can feel him breathing.

Just as she's about to break free, he continues. "The ardat-yakshi is saying all sorts of things, like how she's the genetic destiny of the asari. How I should kill her mother and she'll join me, how her strength will benefit me. And the justicar looks like she half expects me to agree. So I get up, and I say-"

"Fuck no," Aria interjects, and slips free of his grasp, courtesy of a biotic field of her own; steps back and folds her arms. Shepard nods.

"I was pretty out of it, but she was already throwing everything she had at Samara. So I grabbed her wrist and threw her off balance, and the justicar dropped a desk on her."

He shrugs and looks a bit sheepish.

"I had to lean on her to get out of there. No idea what the ardat-yakshi was trying to pull on me, but I couldn't even walk straight for a while. Best damn part of the day right there."

Aria simply laughs. She had not been certain, when she first sent him after the killer, that he would succeed. Oh, it was not the first time she led him into danger, but none of the other times had impressed her quite as much.

It had, she decides, been more than worth the price of admission.

And just as she thinks that, Shepard looks down at his still-erect cock, swaying with every movement. "You gonna bite me if I ask you to finish?"

She doesn't answer. Just steps in and drops to her knees again, parting her lips around the thick, glistening cock in front of her.

This time, she starts to make an effort, alternating between swallowing his length deep down her throat and lavishing the sensitive head with her tongue, hollowing her cheeks as she sucks. Her earlier efforts have left him sensitive, and it is not long before she feels him swelling in her mouth and knows he's near the end. She swirls her tongue, bobbing her head up and down, and Shepard's hands settle on her shoulders, squeezing down painfully.

Aria doesn't let that stop her. Rocks back and forth, sliding her tongue and lips up and down, then dives forwards, until she feels his balls against her chin.

Shepard moans in surprise, hands twitching where they lie, his body growing stiff and rigid.

His cock pulses inside her, throbbing as he shoots his load straight down her throat, so deep she doesn't even have to think about swallowing.

She keeps moving, pulling back just a short bit and pushing in again, stroking his entire length until he begins to relax, his hands sliding off her shoulders and his body slumping against the couch.

Only then does she pull back, popping his softening cock out of her mouth with a slurping smack, leaving a string of sticky come-mixed saliva between it and her lower lip. She pulls back further, and it breaks, leaving a wet streak down her chin, and Shepard laughs breathlessly.

"Fuck. That's hot."

He reaches down and wipes his thumb over her chin, then pushes it against her lips, urging her to clean it off. She sucks it as she did his cock, knowing full well that it turns him on - and that he won't be able to do anything about it until he recovers. It brings her some sense of satisfaction.

"I'm going to return the favour."

She pushes his hand away. Looks into his eyes, and begins to strip, slowly and sensuously. Dances, much like the girls she employs, as she bares more and more of her dark skin, until she stands entirely naked.

Shepard reaches out and takes her by the hips, leans forward and gives her a long, slow lick, from her cunt, wet and ready, and up her stomach to her navel, before he pulls back.

"Better if you sit," he says, and there's nothing to be gained by objecting.

Moments later, their positions are reversed, and he kneels between her feet, licking a trail up from her right knee, past the crease of her thigh and right up to her clit. Gives it a tentative nudge with his tongue, and she purrs and leans back.

"More."

She feels him grin, and then he seals his lips against her flesh and begins to suck, pulling her clit between his lips and stroking it with his tongue. His hands slide up her body to her breasts and begin to knead them, thumbs rubbing her nipples. He's _good_ at this.

His ego is big enough without her telling him so, but she lets her hands settle on his head, pulling him tight against her body, which should be almost good enough. He tugs at her with his teeth, and she shudders, thighs flexing as she tightens her legs around him. It doesn't do much good - he barely moves, other than his head between her thighs and his hands on her chest. Three points of contact, like points in a triangle, and it seems that sensations dance between them, up from where his tongue is stroking and through her back and stomach and chest, up to the hard buds of her nipples between his fingers.

"More," she whispers, eyes closing. A narrow triangle seems to flicker before them, points glowing. It's just how it feels, inside her.

And Shepard keeps going. His tongue, big and strong, like everything else, flattens against her, spreads her folds wide and grinds against the entrance to her cunt, then thrusts into her, thick and deep, while he grinds his lip and nose against her clit. Pulls back, catches her inner lips between his teeth and tugs at her, a brief sting of pain and an explosion of sensation as it tugs at the flesh around her clit.

" _More_ ," she repeats, and this time it is almost a moan. His teeth, the way he _pulls_ at her makes her knees weak and her toes curl.

He pulls his left hand down from her chest and slides it in between her legs, thick fingers parting her dripping folds, gripping her flesh between them. Then, satisfied with the slick covering them, he begins to ease two inside her. Doesn't move them at first, beyond entry, but as he sucks on her clit, he begins to push down against her internal muscles, as if he's trying to press her harder into the couch. She tightens, and he relaxes the pressure; she relaxes, and he pushes again.

He doesn't even have to move his head. Her hips shift, her muscles tighten and relax, and the movements stirs her clit against his suckling lips and stroking tongue.

It's almost like getting fucked, but the wet seal of his lips around her is like no other sensation, both strong and soft, and she begins to lose herself in it. Her hands ball into fists, her arms trembling, and she feels more than hears him chuckle, a vibration that makes her back arch and her legs shake, heels grinding against the floor.

The orgasm surges through her, a wave rising from the soles of her feet to the top of her scalp, golden and fizzing like cheap champagne. It rolls in slow and lazy, and it never seems to end.

When she opens her eyes again, Shepard has stopped moving, sits straight and admires her heaving body, a smug little grin on his lips. As she watches, he wipes his chin and lips with his thumb, then licks it clean.

"Silver-tongued bastard," she groans, wincing as she pulls herself up. It would be nice to just lie there for a bit, but she has a reputation to uphold.

She stands up straight and stretches, feeling joints pop.

"Not bad, huh?" Shepard asks, and wraps his arms around her thighs, pressing a kiss just above her clit. She shivers briefly, still sensitive; grabs him by the throat and, through a flare of biotic power, pulls him to his feet.

"Not bad," she admits, finally.

After all, she isn't telling him anything he doesn't already know.


	4. Endgame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Collectors are gone, but Shepard has little time to rest - just enough for one last stop at Omega.

> `**From:** A (queen@omega.gov)  
>  **Sent:** ERROR 23748 [date corrupted], ERROR 23749 [timestamp corrupted]   
> **To:** Shepard 2, Reapers 0 (myfavouritestore@sr2.normandy.edi.ext)  
>  **Subject:** Re: Fuck yeah!`
> 
> ` Not reading this.`
> 
> `Next time, fix your comm FIRST, message SECOND.`
> 
> `> I w#n. H#lf the ship's sy#t#ms #re fuck#d,  
> > bu# I win. Don#t know #f yo#'ll get th#s, but### you do, w#'re c#ming in as fa#t as it'll  
> > carr# us# H#pe you got p##nty #f b#oze.`

He comes into her booth with a grin that's so wide she thinks the top of his head might fall off any moment. Stomps up past the mercs, bends down and _kisses_ her right in front of all the guards, filling her mouth with the taste of metal and cheap booze.

She throws him across the room, denting the wall on the other side and, quite coincidentally, crushing one of the Shadow Broker's hidden cameras in the process.

"You're drunk."

He is still grinning when he sits up, wiping a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth. "I am _awesome_ ," he corrects her. Pauses, looks around at the astounded mercs. "Awesome!" he repeats, throwing his arms wide.

As they stare, he begins to laugh. Aria shakes her head. It may be against better knowing, but she just has to know.

"I'll handle it," she says to the nearest merc. "Go make sure his crew don't wreck the place."

It takes them longer than usual to clear out. Half of them staring at her, half of them at Shepard. She can't even tell how much of a hit her reputation has taken when she allows some fucker to waltz up and kiss her right in the middle of the Afterlife, allows him to _live_ after that, and she knows she should be pissed - should _have_ killed him for that stunt, because it's not doing _either_ of them any favours.

 _However_ , Shepard has just emerged from the Omega IV relay - granted, on a crippled mess of a ship, but _alive_.

The first man through the relay, and he's _here_ , in her club, leaning against the wall she dented with his head, laughing.

"Get up."

He holds out his hand. After some consideration, she grabs it and yanks him upright, ignoring the way it makes him wince.

"Talk."

He stands in front of her, leaning down so he can look her in the eyes. She tenses up, fists clenching, but he does no more than look.

"Did you see where I just came from?"

He straightens up and walks up to the window, looks down at the floor below. It's noisier than usual, but not 'fight about to break out' noisy; just the regular sounds turned up a few degrees.

"Did you forget who you are talking to?" she counters. He spins around and grins.

"Nope! Just making conversation."

"Make it faster." She prods his chest with a finger. He yields surprisingly easily and stumbles back, hits the couch and falls on his ass, bouncing up and down for a few moments.

Then he sighs, face falling. "I've given order to send you a copy of the ship's footage and my helm cam as soon as the repairs are done. I want this shit [i]everywhere[/i]."

She almost begins to speak, but halts the sound before it can emerge. Instead, she waits.

Shepard spreads his arms, rests them on the back of the couch. It must feel familiar to him by now, she thinks, and doesn't quite know what to make of that.

"The Collectors are gone. Found the base on the other side and blew it to radioactive scrap. But they were just pawns. The Reapers are still on their way, and all hell is going to break loose when they arrive. Don't know when it'll happen, don't know how. Maybe we stopped them long enough. Maybe we'll have thousands of years to get ready. Maybe they can get here by next week." He pounds his fist on the upholstering. "I don't _know_."

Aria still remains silent. She does not have any evidence for or against the existence of these machines, but she does know that Shepard believes they exist, and while that is not a guarantee, it is, without doubt, cause enough for concern.

"Do you have a plan?"

He stares blankly at her.

She waits. And eventually he turns away.

"I only have one lead. Can't even talk about it. It's where I'm heading when the ship's repaired."

"Not even a hint?"

He shakes his head. "I've already said too much." His tone is wry, and he chuckles dryly. "Don't really think it matters, though. Not as if anyone ever believes a word I say."

His expression turns bitter. And Aria _thinks_. So long since she had a need to say something more sensitive than _fuck you_ or _do as I say_. But she can't say she believes him. That wouldn't do them any favours either, and she still isn't sure if it would be true.

"I'll put the repairs on your tab," she says instead, after waiting just a little too long.

He nods, a small smile on his lips. "I appreciate it," he says, his voice so soft it barely carries over the music.

It takes only a few moments for the silence to become awkward. He shifts where he sits; she stares out across the room below, across the swaying bodies of a hundred individuals from half a dozen different races.

"Once we get going," Shepard says eventually, "it's going to be a while before we come back. Blowing the base won't stop Cerberus combing the place for any remains they can get their hands on. There's going to be traffic through the O4 relay pretty soon, and it won't be healthy for me to stick around."

"Pity," she says, and perhaps slightly to her surprise, she means it.

He smiles wistfully.

"Yeah."

The silence lasts as long this time, but feels inexplicably more comfortable, like there's nothing left that needs to be said.

Aria thinks she's fine with that. And once she feels certain that he has nothing to add, she puts one foot up on the couch, leans down with her arms folded over her thigh.

"One for the road?"

He shakes his head; grins. "Don't think I should drink any more. Makin' all sorts of bad decisions already."

She rolls her eyes. Doesn't bother to say anything. His grin widens. "Yeah, I know. Gotta warn you, though. I look pretty bad under here."

"Seen worse." If he is still moving, she has seen worse. "Probably fucked worse."

He laughs, softly. Believes her.

She eases his jacket open. He wears white underneath, stained wet and reddish in places - must have opened a few wounds when he hit the wall. She can't feel any regret, he _deserved_ that, but she can be careful.

White under his shirt, too. Both hardened medigel and bandages, applied by someone who knows their craft; barely disturbed even after his... little flight. What skin shows between them is bruised and scraped, and the blood she saw comes from those scrapes, not any more serious wounds.

"This will hurt."

She brushes her fingers over the largest bandage, around his lower ribs. Something hit him hard here, on the left side, probably taking out a chunk of bone in the process. She almost winces.

She has seen worse, but probably _not_ fucked worse. But Shepard doesn't seem to react.

"Yeah," he says, and takes her wrist, presses her hand harder against the bandages. "Gonna have to let you do most of the work."

"Excuses." She doesn't bother to take the shirt off him; leaves it hanging open. Starts to work on his belt instead.

His legs are in better shape, but not by much. The material in his trousers catches on the bandages, and it takes some work to get them off.

Meanwhile, Shepard rids himself of the shirt. His right arm seems miraculously unharmed, but the left is bandaged from wrist to elbow, and the skin above is yellow and purple, darker in places than even Aria's own.

"You are difficult to kill," she remarks.

He grins. "Took you this long to figure out?"

She could say something about a different frame of reference, but it's not worth debating. "Simply noting for future reference," she says instead, and he laughs.

Up to him what he makes of it, she thinks. Bends down and licks his right nipple - the only one she can get to; the other is hidden behind the bandages covering most of his chest. It tastes faintly of metal, of human blood. He hums and strokes her scalp. She notices a slight unsteadiness in his fingers as he traces her fringe, a tremor that wasn't there before. A weakness.

How human is he still, she wonders - and how human will he be when this has... the word is not 'healed'; perhaps 'been mended'? She can't know. If she sees him again, how much of this flesh will have been replaced with visible cybernetics? What she feels is not concern - it makes sense to replace what is broken. But it does make her curious.

"Everything intact here?" she asks, cupping his groin with one hand.

"Think so. Told 'em to warn me if they cut off anything important." Something stirs under her palm - stirs and grows. She smirks. Definitely seems intact. And Shepard grins, too. "Probably going to need a visual," he adds.

She snorts, but eases a hand in below his underwear and pulls his cock out, semi-hard and much the way she remembers it. She tightens her grasp and strokes, slowly and relatively gently, and feels the blood rushing under her palm as he stiffens and quickly grows fully erect.

Shepard groans, hand weighing down on her head a little harder for a moment. Then he lets go. "Get your blue butt up here. I still got a fully functional tongue." A slight pause, and he adds: "And you taste better than the rotgut I've been drinking."

That gets another snort out of her. Not certain if it's a compliment or insult, but not really caring either way, she lets go of his cock and begins to strip. Nothing fancy this time, just slipping out of her jacket and the tight-fitting black stretch fibre underneath. Shepard winces as he gets rid of the last of his own gear as well, but she pretends not to notice.

He eases himself down on his back, slowly, still wincing, and she looks out over the club below, the dancers, the drinkers, the watchers. A party is gathered at one of the far tables, a big krogan, several humans. An asari - she recognizes the justicar. Perhaps the rumours about revelry were true after all, Aria ponders, but forgets about it when Shepard reaches out and wraps his hand around her leg. His palm is warm and dry, and his fingers still somewhat unsteady.

He begins to stroke her inner thigh as she looks down. It would usually have been too gentle for her tastes, but is still a pleasant sensation, his skin rough, hers soft and sensitive. Their eyes meet, and his fingers rise to stroke her sex, one finger on each outer lip. Then, she feels a third between them, and it glides easily on already slick flesh. Too talented for his own good, she thinks, and the finger sinks into her, feeling unusually large.

"Get down here," he says, and begins to pull her towards him, using that finger inside her.

She follows. She wants this as much as he does.

The couch is cramped, not deep enough for Shepard's bulk, but she manages to sink down over him with her left knee next to his head and her right foot on the floor, low enough that she can feel his warm breath against her cunt.

"Gonna miss this sight," he mutters, perhaps not meant for her ears. And again, she pretends not to notice. Leans down, elbow on his left hip, where there are no bandages, and takes hold of his cock again.

He reaches up and grasps her around the waist, pulls her down further, and she wraps her lips around his cock just as she feels the first touch of his tongue against her own sex. Carefully, as though he's afraid he'll break her, he begins to stroke, and she lets out a small noise of discontent.

"If you are leaving, make this worth remembering," she says, and bites down on his shaft, not hard enough to do damage, but certainly enough to be felt. He grunts in return, fingers tightening around her, and retaliates, sucks one rich purple labia in between his teeth and tugs at her. She feels light-headed for a moment, purrs deep in her throat and begins to suck him in earnest, lips and tongue dancing over his cock.

His hands tighten on her hips, and now she can't feel any unsteadiness in his touch. Not even a hint of weakness as he pulls her down towards his roughly stroking tongue.

She draws a sharp breath around his cock as he captures her clit and works his jaw against her, rolls it between his teeth. Shudders, her boot scraping on the floor, when he releases her again. Her own grasp tightens as well, around the root of his shaft and his balls, and she grows careless, scraping him with her teeth as she bobs her head, but it only seems to egg him on. His hands slide roughly down her hips and settle on her ass, fingers digging into the firm flesh there, thumbs sliding down to the backs of her thighs and up again.

She almost forgets what she is supposed to be doing. Dives deeper, fitting half his length in her mouth and throat and hums deeply, and Shepard groans in response, hips rising towards her, hands tightening. She pauses until he relaxes. Purrs as he begins to suck her clit again, and writhes where she lies as she feels his thumbs sliding in towards her cunt and spreading her open. He probes her entrance with his tongue before replacing it with one thick finger and slides easily inside her, his lips returning to the erect bud of her clit.

She frowns when he pulls back out. Then yelps when he pushes again, in a different place. Moans around his throbbing cock, eyes rolling back as the thick finger sinks past the first knuckle into her ass, lubricated by her own slick. _Almost_ comes as he begins to pump slowly back and forth, as she feels her muscles clenching down on the intrusion, her flesh being pulled back and forth with his movements.

 _Does_ come when he bites her clit again, harder this time, sucking noisily at her. Arches her back, the tip of his cock sliding down her chin as she rises, fingers and toes curling, her entire body trembling with ecstasy.

He chuckles as she settles back down, pulling his finger out and giving her ass a light smack.

"Definitely gonna miss this sight," he says, and this time there's no doubt that he means for her to hear.

"Don't get sentimental. I hate sentimental." She winces and pulls herself up, stands and turns; looks down at Shepard's prone form. The bandages across his chest are stained dark with sweat and her fluids. Pretty sexy, she thinks.

"Distract me," he challenges her, reaching out and stroking her thigh.

She swings her right leg over him. It was easier to fit the other way around, but he shuffles to the side, allows her to fit her knee between his hip and the back of the couch, steadying herself with her left foot on the floor. She grabs his cock and steers it up against her cunt, and drops, ass and thighs smacking against his hips.

He groans, features twisting into a pained grimace, but his hand land hard on her hips and his fingers dig in, pulling her harder down against him.

He's strong, even now, and her movements are limited, but she manages a slight rocking motion, shifting his hard shaft inside her and working her muscles around it. He rewards her with another groan, not quite as pained, and begins to help her slide back and forth.

Friction, inside and outside. The hot, liquid sensation of his cock displacing her flesh as she sinks herself on it to the hilt, taking it deep within her body, mingles with the electric, frizzy sensation of her clit grinding against his body. The thick, coarse hair growing over his sex only adds to it, making it almost too intense to bear. It's particularly noticeable like this, with the sliding, grinding kind of fuck. She still prefers it harder, rougher, but with a human, this isn't bad at all.

Most humans wouldn't have the kind of hands Shepard does, though - wouldn't have fingers capable of grasping her so hard. She likes that grip, pulling her hard against his body, pushing her back and then dragging her back up again, strong enough that she wouldn't even have to move on her own. His thumbs lie inside her hipbones, pressing down into her belly when he pushes her back; his other fingers curl around her ass and dig hard into her flesh when he pulls her up again.

Groaning, her boot sliding on the floor, her leg unsteady, she runs her hands up from her thighs, over her stomach and chest, cupping her breasts and pinching her nipples between thumbs and forefingers. Hard, pulling and twisting, then releasing, sending the twin mounds bouncing with more than just the motions of her hips.

He grunts, hands tightening even further, moving faster, grinding her hard against his hips, as though he thinks he can somehow penetrate even deeper into her then he already is. His cock twitches and throbs, hard and thick and slippery with her slick and his precome. She can tell by the way the breath hisses between his teeth that he's close - as if the throbbing of his cock inside her and the tightening of his balls underneath wasn't enough - and feels her own climax building as well. Tries to relax her inner muscles, draw it out, keep him from coming long enough to let her get off first, or at least at the same time, but it's out of her control now, her hips thrusting, her cunt working his shaft all over and there's not much she can do to stop them.

So she keeps doing what she was doing, hands squeezing her breasts, fingers teasing her nipples, dark and hard as she plucks at them, and surrenders herself to the sensation of rising and sinking tension from the pit of her stomach, down through her legs, up her torso, bright and strong around her spine, then out through her arms and up into her head, until the sensation glows through her entire body.

In the end, it is enough.

Shepard groans underneath her, fingers tight on her hips and ass, and she feels him twitch inside her, once; then again, and again, and again, each of them riding the sensation of the other's orgasm, her clenching cunt, his throbbing cock, until neither of them has the energy to go on. She lands face first on his bandaged chest, panting, and feels her body rise and fall as he pants as well, chest heaving. His grasp has loosened, and the spots where his fingers dug into her ass ache - she would bruise, if her skin weren't already blue.

"Fuck," Shepard hisses between gasps, "that was good."

"Acceptable," she retorts, searching for strength to pull herself off him and stand up, but finding nothing. Not even enough to slap his hands away when he wraps his arms around her, holding her tight to his chest. He _shouldn't_ , she thinks, and she shouldn't let him, but maybe it won't be so bad - just once, and just for a little while.


End file.
